


Still With Hearts Beating

by amazingjemma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, F/M, Inquisition, Inspired by Byzantium, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plague
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingjemma/pseuds/amazingjemma
Summary: Their story starts in the XIV century. Alone and scared, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons are trying to stick with each other, not letting go. It's just the two of them, in this cruel and scary world. And if there is a cure from all their sorrows, it's a bloody one.





	1. CHAPTER 1: THE PLAGUE // INQUISITION

**Author's Note:**

> Title from still by daughter.  
> Beta is absolutely magnificent TheForestAndTheBadger.

 

_“Witch! She is a witch!”_

_“Burn the witch!”_

_“Witch! Witch! Witch!”_

The crowd was furious. Their voices were full of venom and their faces full of rage as they stared at the girl in front of them. They spat out curses and laughed at her misery. Jemma Simmons had lived in this village for a couple of years, and she never imagined that her fellow neighbors could be so rude and cruel to her.

Bewildered, she tried to recognize at least one face, one person who would tell the others that she is not a witch. Because she is not.  Perhaps it is because she is far too smart for her own age – she is only nineteen – and maybe a little bit naive. She helped all of them; she saved her neighbor’s wives and children, and this is what she got in return.

Hate, accusations and a death sentence.

She tried to escape the man’s grip once more but cried out in pain.

“You can’t escape, little bird”, the man laughed and motioned to his men to start the fire. Jemma’s eyes went wide and she whimpered.

“I am not a witch!” She was hysterical but she didn’t care. If necessary, she would beg on her knees. “You have no proof! All of your accusations are untrue and they don’t have burden!”

“It’s not for you to decide. The voice of the crowd is everything I need. They say you are a witch, you get burnt.”

“What if you told them to act this way? This is a conspiracy!” Jemma spat out, and tried to escape the man’s grip again. Instead, he threw her on the ground and his men lift her up just to bind her tightly to the wooden stake. She changed her approach, quelling her rage and trying to reason with the man. “All I’ve done is help. Healing is not a sin, nor a crime. My allegiance is to healing, never witchcraft.  You can search my cottage, you will find nothing there to condemn me. I have saved some of the very faces I see in the crowd, when they were sick and dying.”

The crowd laughed and Jemma glanced at the people she had considered to be her friends. Why were they treating her so? When would one of them speak up and agree with her, confirm she was only speaking the truth? With a sinking feeling, she realized that she couldn’t trust any of them anymore. She was on her own.

The inquisitor, a greying man by the name of John Garrett smirked at the silence from the crowd. He took a burning torch, playing with it in front of the Jemma, teasing its flame treacherously close to the kindling that was being piled around her ankles.

“Despite your bravery young miss, you were suspected to have made a deal with a demon itself. How else would you explain your fellow neighbors recovering from the plague, in such numbers? If it’s not witchcraft, I don’t know what it is.”

Jemma closed her eyes and bit her lip. The ropes tied tightly around her body were making it hard to breathe, and somehow, the wrath of the people hurts more than she could imagine flames would. People she thought she could trust and rely on were now going to watch her be killed, because of some senseless accusation.

“Miss Simmons, it’s not just these people who think are you a witch, and it is not without reason you have been suspected.” John said, spreading his arm to gesture at the crowd. Jemma furrowed her brow. “You live alone, no family and no friends. Unbearably beautiful without no husband…”

“I do have a husband!” Simmons suddenly blurted out and the crowd fell silent except for scattered whispers. Garrett stilled and even lowered the torch, looking straight into the young woman’s eyes. Jemma squared her shoulders and said through gritted teeth, “I do have a husband and when he knows what you have done to me, you will suffer. He will make sure of that.”

Garrett shrugged and turned around, seemingly unaffected by Jemma’s threat. He looked through the men of the village, testing them; searching for any uncertainty or hesitance on their faces. Finding none, he turned around again, painfully slowly and lifted up his torch, nodding at his men.

“Burn the witch.”

Jemma closed her eyes and waited for the tongues of flame to burn at her body. However, before she could feel anything, she heard a man screaming, and the sound made her open her eyes again. Standing in front of her and the inquisitors stood a young man, fists clenched.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled and Garrett turned to look at the new stranger, the torch still dangerously close to setting Jemma aflame.

“Who are you, boy?” Garrett taunts, and smirks at the flash of anger that crosses the young man’s face at his mocking. “You seem awfully brave to try and protect the witch.” Garrett’s eyes flick back to Jemma, and he lazily swings the torch closer to her skirts and the kindling surrounding her.

“I am her husband,” The young man said promptly, provoking a gasp from Jemma and Garrets’ eyes to widen in surprise, before his face crumbled in annoyance.  

The young man continued. “If you not let her go, I will promise to make you suffer even more than you made her suffer.” The man was small, but there was a fire in his eyes and a determined set to his jaw that made it clear that he wasn’t speaking lightly.

The young man met Jemma’s gaze, and there was an earnestness to his face that made her instantly trust him. He nodded slightly, and it was as if he was promising her that he was on her side. Despite her perilous situation, Jemma felt a tiny smile twitch across her face.

 She is not really good at lying, so she kept silent as she watched Garrett considering the stranger. In fact, she can’t believe that Garrett didn’t pick up on when she lied previously, and she doesn’t want to push her luck.

Garrett stared down the young man, searching for any change in his facial expression but the boy stood his ground, even taking one step closer.

“She is not a witch,” the young man finally said and Jemma heard the crowd whispering, accusing her savior of betraying the village. “If she was, you would not have caught her, for certainly she could have used her witchcraft to escape you. Her only crime is being too smart for her own good and having too big a heart. She helps everyone, and in her goodness, she forgets about the consequences.”

Jemma felt the blush reddening her cheeks and lowered her head because even though she was far too modest to admit it, she realized that he spoke the truth. This man whom she has never spoken to knows her better than she cares admit.

“You don’t seem like you are living together,” Garrett spat out, obviously scrambling for straws in the face of the young man’s convincing speech. “How do I know you are actually her husband?”

“My mother is ill,” the young man said. “The plague mercies no one, let alone the ones we love. We decided to live separately till my mother gets better. That way my wife can help as many as possible, and avoid falling ill as well. I would rather be apart from her than lose her forever.” His eyes flickered to Jemma, and she sucked in a breath at his words. She had to remind herself that this was just an elaborate mutual lie that they somehow were both playing along with. That doesn’t stop the pang in her chest; she had not heard someone speak so kindly about her for years.

“Cut the ropes”, Garrett relented, but he said it through gritted teeth and one of his men slashed at the bonds holding Jemma to the stake. She stumbled forward and down the steps, not bothering to wait to have her wrists untied, lest Garrett decided to change his mind. The inquisitor seems convinced in the girl’s innocence though the next words make Jemma’s heart clench anyway. “Sooner or later, the witch will pay for all of her sins.”

Jemma doesn’t hear him anymore. As soon as she is free, she ran to her savior and straight into his arms, whispering _thank you, thank you, thank you._ She felt his hands wrapping around her waist protectively and played her role, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“C’mon, let’s go home”, he said softly and Jemma clutched at his side, watching their fellow villagers considering them as they go. She still heard accusations and curses but tried not to pay attention to people’s negative energy.

She doesn’t let go of him even when they are far away from the crowd and no one can see them but when he shrugs off her hand, Jemma nearly tripped and stared at his back, not surprised but still gently hurt as his sudden change of demeanor.

“What is the meaning of this?” She asked with a raspy voice and he turned around.

“Look, I… you are free now. You can run, and hide where you want to.”

Jemma’s face fell, revealing her disappointment. “Are…are you scared of me? Because I meant what I said, I am not a witch!”

“I know you are not,” he groaned and shook his head. “I am not scared of you. I’m giving you a chance to start a new life somewhere else. Go to a village where they do not know you, and make a fresh start.”

Jemma takes a step back and winces at her savior’s words. He is right. She is an outlander here, in Scotland, but where else she can go? She doesn’t have a family or home. All her earthly belongings are in her cottage back home, but they are not much to speak of. She suddenly feels anchorless, like a leaf on a breeze.

“But you saved me”, she finally said after the pause. “I… the least I can do is to help you. You said your mother is sick and perhaps I can…”

“No,” he doesn’t let her finish and Jemma stared at him with wide eyes. “There is nothing you can help with. She is dying and…” his voice broke.

“I have dealt with far more serious cases,” the girl says quietly and takes one step forward. “Please, let me help you. What’s your name?”

The boy mumbled something about her being stubborn, and gave her a strange look. “Leo Fitz. But please, it’s just Fitz.”

“Nice to meet you, Fitz. I am Jemma Simmons. You can call me whatever you’d like.”

Her smile was like a fever, warm and contagious, and Fitz started smiling too. He wondered why this beautiful and smart girl had become the object of derision by his fellow villagers. He had heard about her from his neighbors; about her ability to heal someone using strange potions and he now understands why Jemma was accused for witchcraft. Lonely and intelligent, she was a threat to every living person there, including the inquisition. He felt sorry for her and everything she had to go through and he quickly made up his mind.

Fitz held out his hand and Jemma beamed. She wiped her dirty hands on the hem of her old brown dress and took his hand, following the man who had just saved her life wherever he would take her.

**~  ~  ~**

A series of coughs wake up Jemma and with a deep sigh she gets up from her little bed. It’s been the third time this night when Fitz’s mother had woken up, calling weakly for help and every time Jemma would get up and check her state, because this is what she does now.

Grabbing an old torn cloth and pouring some water in a little bowl, Jemma smiles softly and sits down next to Mrs. Fitz.

“Jemma… Jemma, my sweet girl…”

“Sshh, you do not need to speak.” Dipping the cloth in cool water, Jemma pats Mrs. Fitz’s forehead, watching her. “You do not look good but I am going to make sure you survive, Nora. We’ll find a way…”

“Death mercies no one,” Nora croaks and closes her eyes. “The more I am here, the more I suffer, and you know that.”

Jemma feels tears forming in the corner of her eyes, listening to the woman’s musings. She hears soft steps behind her and turns around just to meet Fitz’s blue eyes, also full of tears. There is a silent question in his eyes and Jemma just nods, words stuck in her throat.

“Leo, my boy,” his mother croaks and the man in the question sits next to Jemma, staring down at his mother. “Promise me… you will take care of Jemma. She has been so good to us and she deserves everything we can give her.”

“I promise, mum.” Fitz doesn’t hide his tears anymore, letting them scroll down his cheeks leaving shining traces. He doesn’t look at Jemma but  takes her hand and softly squeezes it.

“Jemma, darling, promise you take of my boy as well,” Nora takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, soft blue eyes so similar to her son’s. They pierce Jemma’s hazel ones, and she can’t look away, afraid this will be the last time she sees them. “You two take care of each other and never let go. You’ll be good, my loves. You’ll be safe.”

Jemma has seen a lot of dead people. She knows death as her friend, someone or rather something cruel and uncaring to those who deserved to live more. Jemma has seen death mercy people. Those who were real fighters.

She has seen death and sorrow, but she still hasn’t gotten used to it. She feels her heart clench when she looks at the woman who gave her a home and something that Jemma has always wanted – motherly love. She turns her head to around to look at Fitz – the boy who has saved her and she thinks that she has something else to live for now.

Without hesitation she lets him cry in her arms, clutching at him for dear life, holding him close and leaving feather kisses on his curls. She promises to protect him at any costs, no matter what. And even she’ll be called witch again, she doesn’t care. She has someone she can trust and that’s enough.


	2. SICKNESS // LEGENDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks leopoldjamesfitz for being a beta for this chapter ♥

Fitz can’t say if his life is good enough after everything he’s been through. He is twenty-six years old now, having moved  to the city and now living in a small flat with one old double bed as well as a tiny kitchen. It was the best that he and Jemma could find in Scotland. Something they could afford and yet save some money for food. He began to work as a blacksmith, but it doesn’t pay a lot. 

 

Though Jemma says it’s okay and she understand, Fitz strived for better, at least for her..

  
Jemma finds work as an artificial flowers maker; it was certainly not what she hoped, but when it came to money she chose something what sounded promising and available. Having an income meant the cold winter months would come easier for them both. 

 

She is twenty-five and incredibly smart and brave, but she is sick.

  
It’s yet another sleepless night for Fitz. 

 

No matter how exhausted he is, he watches his girlfriend, coughing out blood and scaring him to death; sometimes she begins suffocating with the effects and he doesn’t know how to help her. 

 

Every time Jemma apologizes and cries herself to sleep. Meanwhile, Leo holds her as close as possible, swallowing down his own desire to spit out the blood he’s been holding back. When she is not looking, or has fallen asleep, that is when he gives into the urges.

 

He can’t tell her that he is sick too. There is too much on her plate already and he promised his mother he would take care of Jemma. 

  
Which he thinks he is not doing very well.

  
“Fitz, I can’t do this anymore.” 

  
He looks down at the woman in his arms and sighs. She is so brave… she has been since the moment he saw her.. She’s been courageous this whole time and it’s been too much.

  
“We’ll find a way to fix it, Jemma. That’s what we always do,” Fitz says softly and leaves a kiss on her forehead. “I am not letting you go.”

  
“We don’t even know what is this.” She barely finishes the sentence before her shoulders begin to shake and she coughs out blood again. “We don’t have money… to ask the doctor for help and I can’t help myself either… we are stuck, Fitz.”

  
“Don’t say that,” he croaks and takes Jemma’s cold hand in his and lifted them to his lips, blowing warm air along them in an attempt to  warm her up. “I have a day off tomorrow. I promise I’ll find someone who would help us for free. Like you did. Remember?”

  
Jemma appreciates his help. She still remembers his heroic act when he stood up for her, pretending to be her husband. She still has dreams and her body is on fire; there is no one to help and only John Garrett’s face laughing at her, calling her a witch. Every day she is grateful that Leopold Fitz gave his word for her, despite not knowing anything about her at all.

  
“We are going to fix it.” Fitz vows, his voice inevitably interrupting  her train of thoughts and she sinks into the pillows, listening to the soothing sound of his promise. He is everything she has now. Him and their wretched cruel life. “You will not die, Jemma. I promise.”

 

In the next morning, Fitz leaves even before Jemma wakes up. 

 

He is terrified and exhausted and his girlfriend is dying and he probably will die as well. In all likelihood, there was no chance of either of them surviving this disease. It was slowly killing them, both physically and mentally. Seeing Jemma pale as she was and imagining her dead makes Fitz sick to his stomach. He’s mad at himself, and their predicament; he’s mad too at the world for being so unfair and ruthless to two people who have never done anything against it.

 

He would have thought that saving her would have given them both a second chance. 

  
Though money is an issue, he finds himself strolling into a pub, one that offers water and bread for free. Given his empty stomach and pockets, it’s a fair trade. Seeing other people being happy makes Fitz sick. Sometimes he wonders if they have the same problems but then notices their full wallets and stomachs and hates them even more. 

 

He is not surprised at the world’s jokes on him and Jemma. They are still too young, without families and on their own on the streets of Scotland, trying to get by on all the money they have. It does not make him any less bitter, however.

  
Fitz gets back to his little free breakfast but soon is interrupted by rasping coughing that leaves blood on his handkerchief.

  
“Are you alright, sir?”

  
Fitz startles, turning to look at the man standing next to his table. A shiver runs down his spine at the stranger’s wayward appearance.. 

 

There is something… off about this man. He looks peculiar but his kind blue-grey eyes seemingly look right through Fitz’s soul and without reason, he feels that he can trust this man.

  
“I’m not entirely sure.” Fitz mutters while watching the older man sitting in front of him. Leo notices how graceful and majestic the stranger is. Never before has he collided with someone like this, a man with a strong stature and wealthy clothing. Most men of this nature prefer to ignore his presence, but especially so if he is with Jemma; men in this town look upon them with scowls due to their poorness.   
“You do seem very ill.” The man says and Fitz chuckles dryly. 

  
“I am not as sick as my girlfriend.” Fitz counters, sighing as he says it.

  
“Let me guess,” the stranger holds his hands in front of him and smiles. His smile is surprisingly warm. “Coughing blood , suffering from rotting lungs and appearing nearly dead?”

  
Fitz gulps and wordlessly nods his head, staring at the man. Who is he? What does he want? 

 

He does seem a little bit odd and the way he talks in a  whispered tone makes Fitz wonder if he is hiding. What if he is a criminal?

  
“You may not believe what I am going to tell you, my boy; but I once was sick too. My family had to deal with this disease. My wife and children died, while I was trying to cling onto life with everything I had left in me. I burnt the bodies and let it go. You know what they say: death mercies no one. But I tried hard to keep living and to be in this world, even though I missed my wife and my children terribly. So I started to searching for something what will help me to cure the disease and keep existing.”

  
Somehow, Fitz found himself watching at the stranger, listening to his story attentively while trying to understand the moral of the story. The man smiled at the memory, as Fitz started coughing again. His lungs burn and he begins to feel weak despite the incredible amount of strength he has harbored for years now.

  
“I spent days and nights in the library, diving into the books which were forbidden that time. I had broken a lot of rules, I had trouble with law itself but I kept digging.”

  
“Have you found anything?” Fitz croaks and the man shrugs, mischievous smirk on his face.

  
“ Not at first. I was dying and didn’t really have a choice when I was found. I almost gave up, but then two of men approached me, saying they had what I was looking for. Something that would help me.”

  
The older man places a little casket between them and Leo furrows his eyebrows. It’s made of wood and his first thought is  what could be in this casket. When he looks up, the stranger nods. Fitz pauses for a moment, and then carefully opened it. He sighs almost instantly, lifting a tiny map from within the box and laying it out on his palm. 

  
“And what… what does this all mean? What’s the moral of your story?”

  
The stranger smiles, deciding to ignore his question. “I’ve been watching you, Mr Fitz; for a long time.”

  
Leo sucks in breath and looks up at the stranger with terrified eyes. 

 

“You let children to come to your forge to sit by the fire to warm up. You’ve been kind to ladies, young and old. You didn’t ask for more money when you should have. You’ve been trying to save your significant other, for quite a long time, I assume. You did everything you could so that she would be safe and sound. You deserve to be saved, Mr Fitz and so does she. And I am giving you this chance. Follow the map and you will find what you’ve been looking for.”

  
Fitz watches as the man stands up and pats his shoulder, glancing at the casket for the last time. Graceful and mysterious, he leaves younger man staring at the map. Fitz begins studying it more closely. The piece of paper is quite old; Fitz can tell that by Gaelic names of his country and its material; it feels like the map might break apart in his grasp.

  
Quickly gathering his things, he puts the map back in the casket and hides it in the pocket of his worn coat. He decides not to tell Jemma about it yet. Who knows what kind of place is that, and what if this is a trap? 

 

If he is lucky, he will be able to find someone willing to lend him a horse this evening and visit the place tonight. Only then, when he learns of the truth of where the map may lead him, will he tell Jemma about it.

  
When he comes home, he can’t help but smile; the smell of the dinner makes his mouth water. He’s glad Jemma is a good cook, but he also has to thank his mother for teaching Jemma how to cook. 

 

He is incredibly grateful for Jemma’s hard work and everything she has ever done for his  family. Saving her from the cruel execution was the best thing Fitz ever done in his damn wretched life.

  
“Hey,” he says as he enters the kitchen and approaches Jemma, who is sitting at their little dining table. Fitz leans down to place a feather-like kiss on her forehead. She is looking as tired as ever, wrapped up in his old sweater.

  
“Where have you been? I woke up and you weren’t at home.” She asks quietly, watching as he pours some soup in a small bowl. 

 

He’s been acting weird lately, but Jemma blames the grief over his mother’s death and her being ill. As much as she hates their situation, she hates herself even more; she has brought him nothing but sorrow and even though he has assured her it’s fine, she still feels guilty.

  
“Just went out for a walk.” Leo tells her, smiling tenderly as he sits and takes Jemma’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Are you working today?”

  
Jemma fixes her gaze on their hands on the table and makes herself smile. Shaking her head, she swallows down another spasm and covers her mouth with a handkerchief. She notices the way Leo shudders and quickly stands up. 

 

She knows he wants to help, but she doesn’t want him to see her die. A part of her wishes she was strong enough to leave him, but she’s not strong enough to live in a world that doesn’t have him in it. She’s not sure what he might do when he has to live in one without her.

  
“Jem, love…”

  
“Don’t,” she begs, blinking as she fights back tears.“I know what you are going to say. I am not feeling better, Fitz. And I feel like… I feel like I am going to die very soon.”

  
“You can’t say that for sure.” Fitz argues andslowly approaches Jemma, embracing her from behind. There is a sorrowful feeling in the pit of his stomach that makes him think she might be right. It makes him all the more eager to find the truth, though he’s not sure if he should trust the word of a stranger. Jemma bites her lip and lets her head fall on his shoulder, the warmth of him makes her feel slightly better. “It’s hard, I know. But we will fix it. I think… I think I found the way to save us.”

  
“Save us?” Jemma spins around suddenly and pierces Leo with a look. “This is incurable, Fitz. We are going to die, sooner or later! There is no medicine, nothing and no one who would help us! We are going to die here, in this bloody room!” Her voice gets louder and louder with each statement, her panic rising. She’s not sure what he meant by ‘saving them’, because there is no saving her. Not with their limited funds.

  
“Jemma…” Fitz pauses and rubs the bridge of his nose but decides not to argue with angry, sick Jemma. She has always been the most stubborn woman he knows, aside from his own Mum. Rest her soul. Instead, he takes her face in his hands and smiles reassuringly. He tries to look brave for her, because he knows he will not rest until he has exhausted every option.  “You should sleep, love. You look tired. And sleep is the best cure, we both know that. Please, lay down. I will clean up everything, okay? Just rest.”

  
He is thankful when Jemma doesn’t argue with him, only sighing as she lays down on the bed and smiles in his direction . It’s a tired and forced smile, but he knows she is giving him her best brave face as well. Fitz sits next to Jemma and caresses her cheek, until she falls asleep under his touch. Jemma’s usually not a heavy sleeper, but he is sure the can sneak away in the evening to follow the map. It’s the only chance they have left.

 

He wastes the afternoon away cleaning up what little dirt has accumulated in their home, trying not to keep an eye on the clock fixated on their wall all the while. Jemma sleeps peacefully, and deeply for once. He is thankful that she doesn’t stir, but gives into the hours of sleep she would usually lose while waiting around for him. 

 

It’s not until 7 p.m. when Fitz finally decides to sneak out and investigate the lead, as it were. After checking Jemma one final time, he starts his journey. He feels awful, leaving her alone in this state, but cannot shake the feeling that this lead might be beneficial to them both. 

 

Unluckily, there aren’t many men willing to lend a horse this late at night, but he finds charity from an older man with a kind heart. The young horse, Storm, snorts when he approaches.

 

The man won’t accept a dime from Fitz, which makes him feel abashed and he forces a couple shillings into his pocket before mounting the horse. Fitz takes a moment to study the map carefully before guiding Storm into the night. He says a small prayer as the town behind him disappears that this is the chance they’ve been waiting for. .   
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I continue this story?  
> Also, thank you for reading and leaving a comment, you da best <3


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